Barefoot Artist

I have only begun calling myself 'an artist' rather recently. I had this silly idea that to call yourself an artist meant that you painted for a living.

I have probably made less than $100 off of art. I don't know how to sell it. I can't translate it into a price. I've been asked, "How much do you want for that?" and my answer usually is, "uh, I dunno...what do you think?"

I can calculate how much the materials cost, but I don't. I can calculate time and put a price on it, but it seems wrong. So I end up giving away many pieces as gifts along the way.

Solstice coming up, no problem...the picture you like is probably going to be along, birthday maybe.

I set up to travel with my supplies, and do go out in the field often. Sometimes just on the floor of a friends house...

I have a very modest workspace in my suite on a little butcher block table next to the window and a minifridge.

Often, a painting gets frustrated with me, and we are at odds. There is always a stack of canvases in progress, some abandoned.
Some just waiting for me to get finished with washing clothes...

Some...drawn and painted from photo shoots.

Some while I'm watching a DVD of Dave Matthews and get inspired *pause...

Some while my mind is wandering...

Some to show unforgettable moments....

Some to show forgotten spans of time...

Some to show athletic concentration...

Some to show athletic exhilaration...
Some to show encounters with nature....

And...yep...Fruit. This one is called Grapes of Wrath, and was made while I was on the phone for the last time with a woman that had called me friend and I her...She was jealous and selfish, and she was yelling at me for forty five minutes. I let her have her say, all the while silently painting...
Anyway...I love art, and I do make art works so I am an artist. I love it so much, I made another one...looks just like me...
Thank you, my friends for encouraging me, and thanks for stopping by.
Tchuss,
Darla Vaughan